Achilles and Patroclus
by Hellsig Otoupeim
Summary: When Hephaestion died, he took the sun with him. He did it so softly, so quietly, so evidently, that even the sun didn't quite realise it straight away. The world looked on. Alexander x Hephaestion


Achilles and Patroclus (he took the sun with him)

When Hephaestion died, he took the sun with him. He did it so softly, so quietly, so evidently, that even the sun didn't quite realise it straight away. The world looked on.

.

Hephaestion's revenge on the world of men was so cruel, so bitter and biting that the world crumbled in the aftermath of his anger. Hephaestion did not crush the world, though the echoes of his death did that for him well enough. He ripped apart an empire and called war upon their civilisation and made sure that, dying far from home and before his time, dying as Patroclus had before, in unfamiliar dust – Hephaestion made sure that he would take the sun with him unto death.

.

"I will honour you."

It's a promise if he's ever made one; and Alexander the Great, King of Macedonia and Conqueror of the World does keep his promises.

.

He gives him tears, pours them on his body as if they would bring him back, as if the waters of his sorrow could somehow drown Hephaestion's death, wash away the blood from that filthy poison no one sees and give him his lover back, clean and healthy and alive. Alexander gives him tears, as a wife might her husband, as a lover his universe. He gives him tears, salty and true, gives him lonely, cold nights where he cannot bear to see anyone but the ghost he awaits. Alexander grants his lover his complete love, even in death – and it is a most beautiful gift.

It is, however, not the greatest of all gifts that Alexander gives. That makes him generous, perhaps, but selfish too.

.

He gives him games, chariot races and fights and wine and food. He gives him crowds and memories, gives him the uproar of his people, deification as a hero to go down into history. Alexander gives Hephaestion the love his people didn't grant him in life, gives him prayers from the Macedonian and wide eyes from the conquered people and posterity – its own form of eternity, an eternity Alexander failed to show Hephaestion the secrets of. An eternity he doesn't want anymore.

.

Alexander sacrifices on the altar of Hephaestion's ghost his relationship with his wife and son. He gives up loving her, accuses the barbarian of poison and murder and keeps her away, away from him and the body of his lover, away from his hate that he can barely control and the anger coursing through his vein. Alexander cannot heal from Hephaestion's death, still mad and in love and blinded by rage and he thinks he will perish with Hephaestion's name on his skin. He believes it.

.

He grants him marble stones and a cold, shadowed abode; gives him a mausoleum in Ancient Greece and, although Hephaestion will never see it, Alexander makes it the most beautiful of all. He cannot bear to think of someone walking by, walking past and failing to bow before the beauty that Hephaestion had in life, a pale copy of which Alexander has commanded. The flesh may perish and die (it wrecks him apart to think it, because Hephaestion was beautiful; like a sunrise or sunset or the moon in the sky or the stars in a moonless night or even a storm), but stone is eternal and cold. Hephaestion is far more beautiful than the statue gives him credit for. Alexander thinks it's because his eyes always told him about love and loyalty and every time they crossed gaze, there was a promise in there. To the bitter end.

The end is, indeed, bitter.

.

Alexander orders the sacred fires to be extinguished, the honours of a king for the one who ruled over all (because he ruled over Alexander's heart, and Alexander is the Ruler of All), crownless king and never seeking glory and Alexander wants to scream. He wants to toss himself into the fire he orders to be put out, wants to pull his skin off his body so that the pain, the void, the itch underneath can finally be gone. The temples are put to mourn and the Gods are told of Hephaestion's death, of the death of the King's heart and of the immense melancholy that has overcome him – and this is, they will think later, this is the most obvious sign of what was to come.

Hephaestion, man made king and hero glorified; Hephaestion will have vengence on those that killed him.

.

There are six months after Hephaestion's death during which Alexander cannot seem to function. There are six months without stalwart loyalty, six months without a warm body and gentle hands and soft murmurs, six months without the taste of his skin and six long, unending, empty months during which Alexander mourns, in between pretending to live and smiling lifelessly, mourns his lover and his best friend and his soulmate. He mourns as Achilles did Patroclus.

To the bitter end.

.

There are six months after Hephaestion's death during which Alexander is empty and dead. He is barren, his soul has been scorched and frozen by passion gone and if Hephaestion is Patroclus, then Alexander is Achilles.

There are six months, although in another world there might have been eight, twelve – perhaps even years; perhaps even a lifetime. (Perhaps even another love.) There are six months between Hephaestion and Alexander dying.

.

When he went, Hephaestion took the sun with him. He did it quietly, humbly, and the sun needed a little bit longer to realise it had died.


End file.
